The song remains the same (except, perhaps, the ending)
by Anita58Straycat
Summary: "He steps into his personal space and whispers mockingly in his ear: "Do you fancy a ride, cowboy?". I ship Chris and Peter, but there isn't plenty of fics about them, so I thought: why the hell not? And I wrote this. There's going to be Sterek, too, later on. K for this chapter, but it's definitely going to change.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! A little note before starting. I ship Chris and Peter, but there isn't plenty of fics about them, so I thought: why the hell not? And I wrote this. There's going to be Sterek, too, later on. Every chapter is told from the perspective of a different character, but still not as a first person speech. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for spelling and grammatical mistakes. Hope you enjoy :D

**The song remains the same (except, perhaps, the ending)**

_Chapter 1: Peter's POV_

**xXxXx**

He spots him from the other side of the street, clinically and a bit longingly contemplating his new, gorgeous '05 Honda CBR 1000RR Repsol. Peter's heard his steady heartbeat since he was still at the newsstand, but figured he was just passing by. He stopped walking though, heart suddenly skipping a beat.

**xXx**

His wolf's been itching with curiosity since then, but he doesn't particularly wish to meet him, what with the hunter-psycho werewolf deal between them.

**xXx**

Then again, he can't leave his baby there just because Argent seems determined to stare at the bike all day long. Plus, he's kinda pleased to be able to make him utterly jealous.

He's a sassy little bitch like that and he knows it.

Why not have some well-deserved fun at Chris's expense for a change?

**xXx**

He approaches him from beyond, careful not to be noticed; then steps into his personal space and whispers mockingly in his ear: "Do you fancy a ride, _cowboy_?".

**xXx**

In the blink of an eye Argent spins around and stabs him with the ultimate death-glare of Doom.

"_Hale_", he says through gritted teeth, hand instantly reaching for the desert eagle 45 in the holster under his leather-jacket.

"Easy there, _Chrissy_! I was just trying to be friendly".

**xXx**

The hunter growls and keeps staring at him, studying him.

"Hey, why don't you leave the growling part of the deal to me since, you know, _I_ am the werewolf here?"

More staring.

"Ok, ok! I'm leaving. God! You're grumpier than Derek!"

He snorts and makes his way to the bike, keys tingling in his right hand.

**xXx**

"Is that yours?" Chris asks, eyebrow raised.

"Er, yes…" The "_duh_" is obvious.

He swings his keys right at his face. "See?"

The hunter lets out an irritated huff and slaps his hand away.

_God, he's pissy!_

**xXx**

"_I meant_, didn't you kill the previous owner to get her?"

"Who the hell do you think I am?" Peter asks in a scandalized high-pitched voice.

The look he receives from Chris totally read: "well, a psycho werewolf who, among other things,_ sliced his own niece in half!"_

**xXx**

"Anyway," he shrugs "I bought it. With money. I have a few bucks left in my bank account thanks to the payout the insurance gave me after, you know, the fire that killed my entire family. The one that your crazy little sister set?"

Something resembling guilt crosses Chris's expression before his face goes completely blank. Peter sees it though, flashing through his features, fast as lightning.

**xXx**

"Come on! I have a spare helmet!"

Argent gives him another hard look.

"Think about it as a peace - no wait, too much – _a truce_ offering. There won't be a second."

He grins in a manner that can only be described as wolfish, baring his teeth and crowding Chris against the Honda, breathing hot against his neck.

"What? Are you afraid of the _Big Bad Wolf_?"

"Ok!" Chris hisses, grabbing the keys from Peter's hand, "but _I_ drive!"

**xXxXx**

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

The song remains the same

I am terribly sorry for the delay. Here! This chapter is longer than the previous one. Am I forgiven? *bats eyelashes seductively and fails miserably* Hope you enjoy :D

_Chapter 2: Chris's POV_

They've ridden for about an hour now, out of town and toward the woods without a particular destination in mind, meeting only a couple of other bikes and cars. It's a good day for a trip, sunny but chilly, and Chris would completely lose himself in the road, finally at peace after the storm of the last few months, if not for a certain werewolf on the backseat.

Letting Peter ride behind him has been a _terrible_ idea. He'd been so eager to give it a try after all these years… Victoria didn't want him to drive a motorcycle: "_it's too dangerous_", she always said, seemingly not realizing that her husband hunted werewolves for a living. But he had been willing to comply, because he loved her and that was reason enough for him. It was only a couple of years after her request, when Allison was three, that during a party with the family at large an old uncle of Victoria had told him that she'd witnessed a car crush, when she was little, during which a teenage girl had died. It all made a lot more sense then.

Chris hadn't ridden a bike in nearly 20 years. But he missed it, the exhilaration it gave him. He hasn't had the will of power to let this opportunity slide. This is how he now finds himself in a very vulnerable position, because he couldn't turn the offer down.

On top of having his neck exposed, a clear invitation for a bite, Peter's arms around his waist are greatly distracting. Chris can't figure out why this, more than the prospective of being killed or turned, is upsetting him to such a degree.

There's something feral about Peter, however he can't place it only on this wolf nature. It's just him: wild and dangerous and oh, so alive. He can feel his heart beat steady, his chest flushed against his back, breathing hot on his neck. He sees his eyes shine in the rearview mirror, not the gleaming blue for betas, just metallic and piercing. They glint with excitement and a childish joy. He laughs when Chris takes a turn too fast and his grip tightens, fingers digging into his leather jacket. And yet…

Chris knows something's up with him. Having retired from the job hasn't wiped out decades of experience on the field. A hunter is what he is: nothing can change that, it's carved into his bones. That same instinct that has guided him his entire life and saved him more than once is screaming at him to be careful: Peter must have come up with some twisted plan of his. He's one of those animals: he likes to play with the prey before killing it. Chris has been stupid enough to fall for the bait like a fool, but he won't be eaten.

He can't put his fingers on what exactly he's aiming for, though. He seems relaxed and not-threatening at all. It's just a feeling in his gut, this undercurrent of tension between them, crackling like static.

"I can hear you thinking" Peter sing-songs, interrupting his thoughts and closing the already non-existent gap between their bodies, to make himself heard over the rumbling noise of the engine.

Chris sees the corner of his mouth curve up into a smirk. It's infuriating. "I won't kill you, if that's what you're worried about. Not now at least. I don't want to damage my beautiful baby." He pouts, as if the mere thought saddens him. And ok, maybe he truly doesn't mean to kill him, but you can never be too careful, you can never let your guard down, let alone with an insane werewolf at you back.

Chris pulls off to the side of the road and climbs off the bike, Peter following suit. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, after taking off the helmet. Peter gives me a bemused look, head slightly cocked to the left, like a dog not understanding his master's order. "I don't have time for games. What's the point of all this?" he gestures vaguely between them. "Well, I wish you and I become bffs, cowboy". Peter purrs, fluttering his eyelashes derisively. "I'm serious. What is this about?" He demands.

"Well, Chris…" Peter replies after a beat, "you actually believe I'll reveal my evil scheme to you if I had one?" He snorts and gets sidetracked by a sport car passing by, his eyes following it distractedly, as if disinteresting in the topic at hands. Chris wants to punch him in the face and wash away his stupid grin, but he knows he would heal in less than a minute, and who would stop him from feeling smug beyond reason after that? Chris's patience is already wearing thin.

When his gaze comes back to him he seems more focused, though, so that's good. Probably. "That's not how it works. I get it must be difficult for you to grasp, what with you being the good guy. Which is no fun at all, by the way…" He adds as an afterthought.

This line of questioning isn't going anywhere fast; still, he has to try, at the very least. He doesn't expect an answer, but he may be able to get some information regardless, body language and all that. "So you _are_ up to something!" He tries to play coy. "What, you wanted to lure me to the neck of the woods, slice my throat and throw by body off a cliff? Because I'm telling you, I'm not that easy to kill". He smiles then, and bares his teeth menacingly. He can see the irony in that.

Peter keeps staring at him wide-eyed, bewilderment creasing the lines of his face the more Chris goes on talking. When he regains his speech at last, what comes out of his mouth is: "_Wow_. This is so beyond paranoid, man, I don't even know. Next thing you'll be telling me is that the government puts chips in our arms to monitor our every move and Elvis's been abducted by aliens!"

And that's the final straw. "This isn't funny, Hale!" Chris hisses through gritted teeth, fists clenching at his side. Peter's demeanor is really starting to get to his nerves.

"You're right" Peter retorts a little breathlessly "This isn't funny. This is _manic_!" He stares at Chris with an unyielding gaze and this new-found attention makes him feel under scrutiny, naked. How does this werewolf manage to pin him down with a single look? Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

Peter runs a hand through his hair and his tongue darts out to moisten his cracked lips. Chris follows the movement and immediately beats himself for the distraction. When he rises them again to face Peter, his eyes are met by a strange look, surprised and… intrigued. It vanishes a second later, replaced with something sharper, something honest.

"Listen. I really meant it when I said I want a truce. This is getting ridiculous." "Yeah" Chris pushes once more, testing Peter's actual goals. "It's so ridiculous in fact, that I don't believe you"

And now, now the real Peter Hale is going to show himself, Chris reasons, upon witnessing him becoming more frantic and restless. He made him lose his temper. The werewolf's next words, however, are not what he expected at all and he has to do a double take. Because _this_ he didn't see coming, not in a million years, not from Peter's mouth.

"Don't you see?" He says, a pleading edge to his voice. "Our families are dead, Chris! Because we didn't put the word end to this nonsense when we could. And I know I have a great part in that myself, I know. But I'm tired." And the long exhalation that accompanies the last syllable seems proof enough. "I've been asleep for six years and I couldn't be more exhausted."

He takes a deep breath and starts again, voice calmer, resigned even. Or so it sounds to Chris, who's getting more and more shocked. He's genuinely taken aback by how touchy-feely this exchange is becoming and so seems Peter, judging by the stunned expression on his face, as if even _he_ can't fathom the words that just came out of his mouth.

He casts his eyes down, dull and spent: the brilliance they held before long forgotten. It throws Chris off balance, because he knows Peter and his kind. _But does he truly?_ _It's not like they knew each other before the fire_, a voice whispers from the back of his awareness, and it sounds oddly like Allison. Is it possible for him to have misjudged him so greatly? He could be lying, but no one can be that good.

"Honestly?" He goes on, not taking his eyes off the ground and moving dirt around with his boot. "I just want to ride my baby on a sunny day and run in the woods on the full moon. And forget… everything."

And that, that does it. Because you can fake a lot of things, Chris thinks: friendship, happiness, love. But that sorrow, so raw and deep it's only one step shy of despair… not even the greatest actor could fake that. And Chris sees it, right through Peter's façade of wit and sarcasm because he feels it, too. He inhales deeply before speaking, because he doesn't trust his voice not to break. "Why are you telling me this?" He asks softly.

Peter finally looks up at him and appears more surprised by the confession than Chris himself. "I don't know" he utters disbelievingly. "I have no fucking clue"

Maybe they'll never trust each other, they'll never drink a beer together watching the game or have a bbq on a Saturday afternoon, but they can at least try not to tear each other apart. Chris can live with that. "Well… I guess you're right." He settles for, not wanting to uncover his own inner turmoil. "Come on. I don't have all day." He tosses the keys to Peter, who almost let them slip through his fingers, still lost in thoughts. "Your turn."

He hops on the Honda after him and gives him a light pat on the chest to prompt him to go. Peter shakes his head minutely, clearing his mind, puts the keys in the ignition and throws him a new-found cheeky grin in the rearview mirror. Chris gives in to the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hold on tight, hunter-boy" he calls and takes off. "_Hunter-boy_?! This is even worse than cowboy, Hale. Firstly, I don't hunt anymore -be grateful for that- and above all else, I'm not a boy"

"Oh, I can see that alright." He leers. Chris lets his head fall heavily on Peter's shoulder, defeated. "Keep you lewd comments to yourself, would you?" Peter's laugh is rich and Chris allows himself a small smile, hidden from view by Peter's broad back. "You know, I can actually tell from your heartbeat and your scent that you appreciated the compliment". "Fuckingwerewolves" he groans, but his body shakes with mirth as Peter's chuckle loses itself in the roaring wind.

They ride in companionable silence for a while. Despite the fact that their last exchange seems to have broken a lot of the previously built-up tension, he's still a bit fazed by their earlier conversation, just as much as Peter, he's sure. He probably, _definitely_, hadn't meant to turn the ride into an emotional clusterfuck, but it had happened nonetheless. Chris is glad they put their thoughts out in the open.

That's not to say he trusts him; he gets him, though. He got a glimpse of the real Peter and if he's honest with himself, he admits that he can relate to a certain degree. He's right after all: Derek is the only family he has left, and so in Allison for him.

He can get as far as to think that Peter atoned for his crimes with his death. He hasn't killed anyone since he pulled a Jesus on them with his resurrection trick. He'd put a bullet in his skull if he even thinks –and yes, Chris would know- of biting something bigger than a rabbit, but he can let it slide as long as he behaves.

Peter slows down and cuts the engine off in front of his house. Chris is startled: he was so lost in thoughts to not even realize he was almost home. He dismounts and goes to give the helmet back to Peter who just holds a hand in front of him and says: "Keep it". Chris feels his eyes widen in surprise and Peter grins, amused, at his puzzlement.

"See you around… _boy_" And just like that, he takes off. He's already at the end of the road when Chris regains his ability to speak and mutters a begrudged "_thank you_" under his breath. If Peter's mock salute is anything to go by, he heard him despite the distance. "Fucking werewolves" he grunts. And smiles.

If he doesn't leave the helmet in the garage, but rather hides it in his room, well… it's because he figures there's no need for Allison to worry.


End file.
